


the correct number of beds

by tryslora



Series: 12 Days of Tropemas 2018 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12DaysOfTropemas, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: It's been fourteen hours in the Impala, with another sixteen to go tomorrow. All they need to do is sleep for the night. But every hotel and motel in the area is filled with a beauty pageant, leaving Dean and Castiel with one room and one large bed.





	the correct number of beds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was written for Day 6 of Tropemas wherein the prompt of Road Trip seems to have turned into the Bed Sharing trope instead, as it so often does.
> 
> Note that this must be an AU because I refuse to admit a character is dead and thus she occurs as a background alive character.

“There is only one bed, Dean.”

It’s not like Castiel is wrong. Dean drops his bag on the floor by the bureau. “Yep. Motel’s full up. Something about some competition for little kids in town. Some pageant thing. Said that the main hotel downtown filled up, then all three motels in town, and the four in the next town over as well. Try not to trip over the kids.”

Castiel hasn’t moved from the door, his bag over his shoulder, body slightly bent under the weight. “One bed,” he repeats.

“Yeah, Cas, I know.” Dean turns so he can sink onto the bed, the mattress giving way beneath him. After fourteen hours in the Impala, it’s soft and cushy and Dean could easily just fall back and sleep if he weren’t so damned hungry. “It’s after ten, Cas. We’re going to eat those burgers in that takeout bag you’re carrying, pass out, and be on the road just past dawn. It’s not like it’s going to matter if we sleep in the same damned bed.”

He crooks his finger. “Now get over here, because I want my burger.”

Cas comes into the room, drops the bag of takeout on the table just inside the door. He carefully sheds his coat, hangs it in the closet, then undoes the cuffs of his shirt and rolls the sleeves up. “We have shared a room often,” he says conversationally, “and yet, we have never shared a bed.”

“Tough times call for tough measures.” Dean can see that Cas isn’t going to let him get crumbs in the bed, so fine, he’ll make his way to the table. There’s only one chair, so Dean perches on the heater under the window and leaves the chair for Cas. “Eat up, Cas. Don’t know about you, but I’m barely awake right about now, and we’ve got a longer day tomorrow.”

“We could have stopped sooner,” Cas points out. He sits carefully, unwraps his burger slowly.

“Didn’t know there was going to be a miniature beauty pageant when I pulled off the highway,” Dean counters. “Cas, is it really so offensive to have to share a fucking bed with me? We’ve slept in the car when we’ve been stuck. We’ve shared a hundred rooms over the years. Hell, I’ve seen you half-naked more than a dozen times. What the hell is going on in that angelic head of yours tonight?”

Cas stares, unblinking, for a long uncomfortable moment. Then he lowers his gaze. “Nothing, Dean. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Dean may not be the most emotionally savvy man around, but he can read Castiel’s discomfort.

“I’ll take the floor,” he mutters.

“I do not need sleep,” Cas replies. “So if anyone does not need the bed—”

“Just take the damned bed and lie down for a bit, Cas,” Dean snaps.

The silence between them is awkward. But Dean finishes his burger, then hurries into the bathroom for a quick shower. It gives him time to calm down, to try to figure out why his skin pricks with irritation.

He still doesn’t know what’s bothering him, just that it is, but at least he’s clean in the end.

He steps out of the bathroom, wearing sweats for bed. Cas is still sitting at the table, his shirt half unbuttoned, open at the throat. He leans back, hands loose across his stomach as he watches Dean.

“I will take the chair and watch over you,” Cas says quietly.

“You’re not my guardian angel,” Dean mutters. He climbs into bed, and it’s too damned big. He grabs the second pillow, fluffs it and wraps himself around it. “Get the light, will you? Can’t sleep with it on.”

“Of course, Dean.”

He can’t sleep in the dark, either. Dean’s aware of Cas’s soft huffs, the slow, even in and out of every breath.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean frowns, struggling for wording. “Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You could just—” Dean flicks his fingers, shakes his head. Castiel hasn’t popped around like that in forever, not like he used to. “Why are you bothering to take the long way around?”

“We need to get to Sam,” Cas says. “And you’re in the car. Therefore, so am I.” A moment’s hesitation, then he adds more quietly, “I enjoy our road trips. Are you not enjoying it?”

“You’re sitting there staring at me, and I feel awkward,” Dean mutters.

Silence.

“Does it mean that much to you for me to sleep in the bed?” The words are slow and even. Careful, as if Cas has some idea what he’s asking.

As if Dean has some idea, too.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. Because it does.

“Very well.” Castiel rises, only a dim shadow in the dark room. There’s a rustling as Castiel finishes unbuttoning his shirt to shrug it off, then pushes down his trousers. He crosses the room and slides into the bed on the other side. He lies there, a solid foot of space between them. “Is this better?”

“Yeah,” Dean lies. Because it isn’t, not really, but he can pretend to himself enough to force himself to sleep.

He wakes curled around Castiel, his hand on Cas’s chest, with Cas slowly stroking over his shoulder. As Dean’s eyes open, Castiel goes still. “I am sorry, Dean,” Cas murmurs.

“I’m not.” He’s not awake enough to lie, the truth slipping free before he can stop it.

He’s not sure Cas is breathing.

“Cas? Say something to me, man.”

“Yesterday you asked why I was here,” Cas replies. “And I ask you, in turn—why did you want me to join you on this road trip?”

Dean thinks about driving all that way in the Impala on his own. Almost thirty hours on the road. He liked it, when he first started out hunting. Didn’t mind seeing that highway stretching out in front of him, his music playing, drumming away to the tunes as he sang loudly.

Now, though, it sounds lonely.

“Because there’s no one else I’d rather travel with,” Dean answers as honestly as he can. “Because I want you around. Not just listening in when I’m talking to the air and pretending it’s you, but right here. With me.”

Cas touches his shoulder. “Here,” he clarifies.

Dean licks his lips. “Yeah, here, too. One bed and all.”

Cas regards him quietly for a long moment before a smile quirks the corner of his mouth. “I am going to kiss you now, Dean.”

Words are impossible, so Dean just nods, and Castiel leans in to do just that. Warm and slow. Careful. Questioning.

Dean tries to answer as he kisses back, winding his hand around Cas’s head to hold him close.

Yes. Please, yes.

Cas pulls back after not nearly long enough, murmurs, “You did say we have to get on the road. Sam is expecting us.”

Damn it, he’s right. They’re on a timetable, which means getting on the road soon, despite the fact that Dean really doesn’t want to leave this room. Just in case things change once they walk through that door and everything goes back to the way it has been.

“However, you may wish to call ahead, to see if Sam has already booked a room for us.” Cas sits up and stretches, and for once, Dean lets himself look his fill, drinking in the sight of Cas’s chest.

“What for?” Dean leverages himself up one elbow.

Cas looks down at him and raises his eyebrows. “While I am certain that Sam is already set with Eileen in his own room, you should ensure that we have the correct number of beds in our room.” He pauses, lowers his voice as he leans back to brush his lips against Dean’s again. “One,” he whispers.

Yeah, Dean can do that. Because one bed sounds perfect to him.


End file.
